Date: Thu, 06 Aug 2015 20:55:46 -0700
From: h.schreiber@hushmail.com
Subject: Chapter 26 of Come Christmas Steve by Hans Schreiber

Come Christmas Steve
Chapter 26
Ill Winds Blow

The wind blew hard on Saturday night bringing with it an end-of-winter
storm. It kept me up. I'd slept through many a storm in the upstairs of our
ranch home, but this one seemed especially loud and violent, determined to
get my attention. I wrapped myself in the heavy quilt and willed myself to
sleep.  Sleep only came in short fits, however. Between the restless bouts
of it, I worried. I worried about Steve, I worried about the obnoxious
reporter asking questions about Whittaker, I worried about Colt, and I
worried especially about Colt's crazed father. I even worried for little
Daniel whose life was about to get turned upside down through absolutely no
fault of his own. I had so many people to worry about, I nearly forgot to
worry about myself.

I welcomed the morning. I rose earlier than necessary just to bring an end
to the unpleasant night. I showered and dressed in my church clothes and
went downstairs and practiced the piano song I was working on - Amazing
Grace. I was slowly getting better, and the better I got, the more fun it
was to play.

One by one, my family emerged, Mom first. She smiled appreciatively at my
practicing and song choice.  She went about preparing oatmeal for
breakfast. After breakfast we loaded into the Suburban and all headed to
church. At Billy's suggestion, we were attending the non-denominational and
hopefully, non- confrontational Christian church that Jaime's foster family
attends. Billy had more motivation for doing that than a desire to get some
religion, obviously. Mom and Dad were all for it, since none of us ever
intended to darken the door of Reverend Lew-ass's church again.

We arrived and Jaime lit up when she saw Billy. Billy took her hand and
gave her a kiss. We followed and Jaime introduced us to the foster family
she'd been staying with. They were all very nice just as Billy had
indicated. Billy verified that he would be able to pick Jaime up from
school on Wednesday and her foster mother was appreciative for the help. We
found an empty pew and Jaime went with us to sit by Billy.  They held hands
and made eyes at each other throughout the service. I noticed several
people sneaking glances at them and at all of us really, being new faces, I
supposed.

The service was very nice and the pastor seemed cool. He spoke on faith and
the importance of putting your trust in God when times are rough for
you. He said that just because you accept Christ and follow his
commandments to the best of your ability, it doesn't mean that you won't
have problems in your life to deal with. He pointed out how persecuted the
early Christians were. He said the real reward of living by faith was
having the inner peace that comes from knowing you are doing the right
thing in spite of the consequences and understanding that Christ's love
extended to you and sustains you. Having a knowledge of His resurrection,
helps us understand that we don't live just for this life alone. It really
hit home with me. I felt good and comfortable in church for the first time
in a very long time. I decided I'd like to meet with this pastor and find
out what his feelings were about gays.

After the closing hymn, the congregation stood while the pastor and two of
his deacons made their way to the exits. After they were in place to be
able to shake hands, people started filing out from the back pews and then
moving towards the front. We were fairly close to the back so it wasn't
long before we made our way to the door. The Pastor thrust his hand towards
me and grabbed a firm grip on mine.  "Welcome, Shane," he said to my
surprise. "I'm so glad you found us. I'd like to meet with you
sometime. Would that be all right with you?"

"I guess. How did you know who I was? Have we met before?" I asked.

"No. we haven't met, but even though I'm pretty busy with my pastoral
duties, I do find time to watch the evening news now and again."

"Oh yeah. Of course. Sure, we can meet sometime. I'd like to talk to you
too," I answered.

"Great. I actually have an opening this afternoon. Will 2:00 work for you?"
the pastor asked. He pulled his cell phone out and stepped back a step to
let other church-goers pass by.

"I'm totally open. I have nowhere to go and nothing to do right now while
my legal mess is going on.  That's why I didn't realize that you would
naturally know who I was. I don't ever get out of the house, so I forget
that my face has been all over the TV."

"Okay. What's your address then?" the pastor asked. I supplied it and he
quickly entered in his calendar.  "Fantastic. I'll see you later then. I'm
pleased you joined us today," he added with a smile and a second handshake.

On the way to the car, I wondered what he wanted to talk about. I suddenly
became aware of all the surreptitious glances I was receiving. People
wanting to get a look at the alleged gay pedophile without being too
obvious about it. Suddenly, I wanted to get back home and stay there. I
picked up my pace and jumped into the back seat, slamming the door. I
dropped my face into my hands and waited for Mom to finish her conversation
with a woman that she knew somehow. Dad was standing beside her but clearly
not engaged in the conversation. Billy got his final good-byes in with
Jaime and came in and sat next to me. "What's up with you?" he asked.

"Nothing. I just want to get back home."

"Why? I thought you'd be glad to get out of the house for a while," Billy
responded.

"I wanted to, yeah. But now I want to get back. I'm not interested in being
the freak show any longer."

"Oh. That. Yeah, well it happens. People are curious, you know. What did
the pastor want with you?"

"He wants to come visit. He knew who I was. I suppose he wants to tactfully
request that we, or I, don't come back. Why else would he want to come
visit and make the appointment on the same Sunday that we first showed up?"

"Hmm. I hope not. That would suck. Jaime said he seems pretty cool. She
says he's not so uptight about everything. Sucks if that's really what he
wants."

"Yeah. Kinda sucks all right. So do you get people looking at you when you
go out?" I asked.

"Sure. But probably not as much as you do. I mean, your face has been out
there a lot more than mine.  But, yeah, I do. Hell, I'd probably look too
if it was someone else from here on TV like we are. It's just natural."

"I guess," I agreed. I was glad that Mom finally quit visiting and got in
the truck. On the way home, Mom went on and on about how much she enjoyed
the service and how nice the pastor was and how happy she was that she knew
a couple of people and they had actually been nice to her. The more she
went on, the more guilt I felt knowing that the "nice" pastor was planning
a visit to "nicely" ask us not to come back. Once we got home, I made the
announcement that he was coming. All Mom could say about it was how nice of
him to come visit and started thinking about what kind of treat she could
bake. I didn't burst her bubble. I figured the pastor could do that for
himself.

I changed into jeans and t-shirt and practiced the piano. I found immense
distraction in the process. I felt no small degree of satisfaction in
getting through the last song in the training booklet so that I could move
on to the next level. When I finally tired of practicing, I went up to my
room and read poetry from the book Steve had given me. I sat at the
computer and wrote down a list of all the things I wanted to remember to
ask him and to tell him about. I was so excited for the upcoming visit, I
could barely contain myself. I lost track of time until Mom called up that
Pastor Nichols was here to visit. I took a deep breath and steeled myself
for a fresh assault, then headed down the stairs.

I walked in to find Mom pouring fresh apple juice to go with her warm
oatmeal and raisin cookies.  Pastor Nichols stood and greeted me when I
walked in. Everyone else was already in the room. I sat next to Billy on
the overstuffed couch and folded my arms.

"Thanks for letting me come by on such short notice. I just wanted to
properly introduce myself and thank you for attending today," the pastor
began. I was still skeptical that the other shoe was about to drop starting
out with a big but. And sure enough, there it came, "But," he said, drawing
it out.

I interrupted him. "Okay, Pastor, I get it. You didn't need to come all the
way over here just to tell us you don't want us to come back to your
church. I know I make everyone uncomfortable and they all think I'm going
to lure the young boys off somewhere for some disgusting buggery like some
kind of pedophile pied-piper. So don't worry. We won't come back." I was
fighting my emotions and stood to escape. I'd been thinking about that
little speech ever since leaving the church.

"Actually," Pastor Nichols said calmly and unfazed by my emotional
outburst, "I was about to say, I was worried that you might have felt
uncomfortable because some of the members tendency to cast glances and even
stare at you. You are a pretty notorious character in our town right now
and I'm aware of how unfairly you were treated by Reverend Lewis. I wanted
to assure you that you are completely welcome in our congregation and with
your permission, I'd like to address the matter head on in next week's
sermon. I'd hoped to get your okay for that ahead of time and make sure you
planned on returning."

I felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over me. Mom was glaring. Pastor
Nichols held his gaze on me without any hint of resentment over my
rant. "I'm sorry," I muttered. "I ..." Pastor Nichols cut me off before I
could explain.

"I completely understand and please don't worry about it. I fully
understand your assumption. I should have clarified why I wanted to meet
with you when I set the appointment. Forgive me."

He was so gracious. "No. Forgive me. I shouldn't have jumped to
conclusions," I apologized.

"Again, fully understandable, considering what you've been through. I just
want you to know that judgment is reserved for the courts and most
importantly, the court on high, where Christ presides. I plan on making
that the point of my sermon next week, with your blessing, of course."

"Sure. Thanks." I didn't know what else to say.

"How wonderful," Mom exclaimed. Dad and Billy relaxed and took long drinks
of their apple juice to chase a bite of their cookie. We visited for a
while and I felt like I wanted Pastor Nichols to know my side of the
story. I spent a good hour giving him all the details of the Yellowstone
fiasco and also the nightmare of the entanglement with Uncle Arty's sex
ring. He listened intently and laughed about me getting locked out of my
hotel room naked, in spite of his efforts not to.

At last, Pastor Nichols excused himself, but not before asking Mom for her
cookie recipe. Of course, Mom beamed and rushed into the kitchen to copy it
down. When he shook my hand at the door, he said, "I believe what you've
told me, Shane. I'll pray for a successful outcome for you and Billy. Thank
you for coming to worship with us and thank you for sharing your story with
me."

"Thank you. I can't even tell you how much it means for someone like
yourself to show some understanding and trust in me," I responded. He
smiled kindly, the kind of non-judgmental, kind smile I imagined the Savior
himself would have. I got tingles as he gripped my hand a bit tighter and
looked into my eyes.

"I'm just so happy!" Mom exclaimed as she closed the door. "So happy."

"So am I," Dad agreed. "So am I. Good people are out there after all."

"He rocks, just like Jaime said about him. He's way cool for a church guy,"
Billy chimed.

"I'm going for a run," I said. "I need to think about all of this. You
wanna come with?" I asked Billy.

"Nah. I'm gonna call Jaime."

"Okay. See you all in a while then. I think I'll do three laps today. I
think I'm ready to step it up a bit."

I hustled upstairs and tossed on my running gear. Since it was later in the
afternoon, I chose to wear sweat pants and not just a hoodie. I stretched
out and jogged down the stairs out the front door and down the back lane to
the fence line. "Thank you, God," I said out loud as I fell into my pace,
"for sending Pastor Nichols and restoring my faith that good people do
exist." A warm tingle ran through me again as I spoke the words.

By the third lap, I was feeling the strain on my calves and lower back as I
approached the stand of trees near the canal road where I'd encountered the
reporter asking about Whittaker. I could see there was another white
vehicle parked on the canal road and I worried they had returned. I was not
in the mood and decided I'd just completely ignore them and keep on
running. As the tall figure emerged from the trees, I stumbled to a stop
instead. My heart nearly burst from the accelerated pounding and my stomach
tightened to the point I thought I might vomit. Sherriff Withers stood in
the middle of the road in street clothes, scowling and tapping his steel
night stick into the palm of his left hand.

"What?" I asked when I found my breath and my voice. "What do you want?"

"Some explanations to start with," he groused. His neck was tight and I
could see veins bulging.

"About what?" I asked, still laboring to catch my breath.

"Don't play stupid, you know damn well about what."

"No, I don't. What do you want me to explain?" I asked.

"Why are you fucking with my kid?" he seethed.

"I'm not!" I shot back. "I haven't done anything with your kid."

"Bullshit. I have phone messages you've been relaying between you and that
slutty girlfriend of your brother, and you showed up at his rodeo yesterday
claiming your name was Daniel. So don't play stupid.  What have you done to
him?"

"Nothing! Listen ..." I paused, realizing I had to be careful what I said
so that I didn't end up putting Colt at risk. "I have not touched your
son. He sought me out for advice. All I've given him is advice and most of
my advice has been to stop trying to contact me and to talk to you. But,
he's afraid of you."

"Advice? Why the fuck would Colt need any advice from a perverted pedophile
like you?" the Sheriff growled. "You may not have physically touched him
yet, but I know what you're trying to do. You're grooming him, just like
you were grooming those boys at the school. I know how you boylover creeps
work. You work on getting their trust at first and then get them to like
you and want to please you and then you start with the sex stuff. Well, not
with my son, you don't!"

"NO! Listen, I'm not a pedophile. I have no interest in young boys except
to care about them. I have no sexual interest in Colt. I do care about him
as any normal human being should care for someone else who is troubled and
scared. I cared about the children, boys and girls, at the school as people
and I wanted them to be happy and successful, but I have no sexual interest
or attraction, I swear." I was getting nervous about how this was going. I
was visibly shaking and unable to control it.

"Sure, save that bullshit line for the judge. I swear, if I find out you've
touched my boy, you won't live to see your trial. I'll personally execute
you, slow and painful. Clear?"

"Clear," I answered. He was not rational and I decided my best option was
to not poke the bear. I decided it might be best to grovel and appease him.

"So what was your plan? Huh?" he asked. "Take an interest in his rodeo
sport and then slowly talk him into meeting you somewhere private and play
some sick kind of game to get him naked? Maybe you'll let him play with you
first before you mess with him? Was that your plan?"

"What? No. I have no plan. He just needed to talk. I talked to him and
asked him to leave me alone.  Honest. He begged me to come to his rodeo. He
wanted a little praise for something he's good at."

"From you? Why would he do that if you weren't messing with his head?
Putting ideas into his head that you're his friend and that you want to do
things for him? I know. I know how you guys work. I've seen it.  Oh
yeah. Next you start buying things for him and asking him about how strong
he is. You get him to take off his shirt and show off his muscles for
you. Right? Get him comfortable with showing his body off to you. That's
your first step. I know. I know how you work."

"Look, I've told you. I'm not like that. I am not interested in Colt or any
other boy. I'm a victim of a lot of messed up circumstances. But I'm not
what everyone thinks I am. I'm just the opposite," I tried again to
convince him. I knew it was pointless. His mind was made up. He just
laughed derisively.

"Yeah. It's all circumstance. Everyone I ever arrested was just a victim of
circumstance. You're the guy standing over the dead body holding the bloody
knife and telling me he just found it lying there on the sidewalk. You just
happened to get locked out of your room in Yellowstone naked and just
happened to be alone in the hotel room bathroom, naked with a young
boy. It's all just circumstance. You were framed, right? Bullshit."

"Whatever. You're going to believe what you want to believe so, forget it."

"I still don't get why you'd pick my son, Colt, to go after. That's the
stupidest thing ever. You had to know I'd eventually find out and kick your
ass for it," Deputy Sheriff Withers threatened.

"Exactly, that is stupid. And the answer is that I didn't. How would I even
know you had a son? You're the reason Colt sought me out. You made him
watch all the coverage of my court case. By chance, on my way home from
Billings we stopped for gas at the same quick mart where you stopped. Colt
was in the bathroom with his little brother and he recognized me from the
TV and he started asking me questions. He was scared and confused by all
the stuff you'd been saying about gays and what you would do to them. He
was worried what would happen to him if he turned out to be gay. He was
afraid of you and he wanted to know how he could tell if he was gay because
of it. So really you're the problem, not me," I said more boldly than I
anticipated. Once I got rolling, it all just spilled out. I could see from
the bulging neck veins that my little rant hadn't gone over well with the
big Sheriff.

"What day was it?" He barked.

"Umm," I thought hard for a minute. Time had sort of lost relevance for
me. One day bled into the next.  Finally, I came up with the day and the
approximate time that we were there.

"We did stop there coming home from a rodeo and a testimony I had to give
in a Billings court case," Sheriff Withers thought.

"You can ask your younger son. He knows Colt talked to me in there. He can
verify it. I didn't seek out Colt. Colt sought me out. I promise you."

"And you say Colt approached you?" the big Sheriff repeated.

"Yes. He approached me. I was just in there to take a leak and Colt
recognized me. I tried to deny it was me on the TV, but he'd seen so much
of the coverage, I couldn't lie to him. He knew it was me. Why did you make
him watch that stuff, anyway," I asked.

"None of your business why I do what I do. But, I'll tell you this, my kid
is not going to be turned gay. I'm not letting that happen to my boys. No
way, no how. And if I point out the problems gays get themselves into, it
helps reinforce what I'm teaching them about what's normal," he
responded. I didn't even know how to process such bad thinking. I saw no
point in arguing with him over it. His mind was obviously like concrete,
thoroughly mixed up and permanently set.

"Oh. Whatever. So are we good now? Can I finish my run?" I asked.

"No, we are not GOOD," Sheriff Withers sneered. "We are far from
good. Whether Colt approached you first or not, and I will verify that by
the way, you should not have had further contact with him. I know you two
had several meetings and I know you broke the rules of your bail to go
attend my son's rodeo. A rodeo that I wasn't at and you somehow must have
known that. So you were still setting him up to take advantage of him and
turn him gay just like you did to that little boy in Yellowstone. You just
got caught first before you could mess with him, thank God."

"Oh for hell sakes. For like the fourth time, I am not a pedo! I have no
sexual interest in your son or any other young boy. I'm gay but I'm only
interested in guys my own age. I know you're super prejudiced against gays
like me, but you have to be a Neanderthal to believe that all gays want to
molest little boys.  It's not true! In fact, most molesters are hetero guys
and someone close to the boy, not strangers. What can I say to get you to
believe me?"

"Not a damn thing. But I can show you how serious I am about you staying
away from my Colt. I'm going to make it clear enough that you won't even
think about him without feeling the pain I'm about to inflict on you as a
warning," he growled.

I felt suddenly sick to my stomach. My knees weakened and my heart started
racing. I realized he'd come for one reason and one reason only and nothing
I could do or say would deter him from his mission. I swallowed hard and
stared at him, biting my quivering upper lip. "So that's it then. You're
planning on beating the shit out of me with your night stick?"

"As a clear warning. I sure as hell do."

"I thought you took an oath as a Sheriff to 'Protect and Serve' the
community," I said.

"Not your kind. Besides, I am protecting my son and I'm about to serve up
some justice."

"JUSTICE!" I cried, "JUSTICE!" I was infuriated. "This isn't justice, it's
vigilantism. You're a disgrace to the uniform you wear."

"That's enough out of you. Time to get busy," he sneered. He charged toward
me and I knelt down and put my hands behind my head.

"What the fuck are you doing? Aren't you going to run?" he asked, halting
his charge in confusion.

"Why? I just ran seven or eight miles, I can't outrun you," I answered.

"Well aren't you at least going to put up a fight, you pussy coward?" he
shot back.

"Hah. I'm the coward? You're the coward. No, I'm not running and I'm not
fighting back. Since you're determined to violate your oath as a peace
officer and beat me without a trial or without having even committed any
crime, you're going to have to live with the fact that you beat an
innocent, unarmed and non-resisting citizen. You have to make yourself the
criminal, I'm not giving you any excuses for your evil and juvenile
behavior." I glared up at him, resolved to take whatever he had in store.

He paused. I saw he wanted me to resist. He wanted me to prove him
right. But I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

"Run, you asswipe faggot!"

"Fuck you, coward!" I yelled back. Then I grunted, "UMNPGH." I felt searing
hot pain shoot from my groin as his size 13 boot smashed heavily into my
soft testicles. I doubled over and dry wretched. The night stick fell
heavily across the back of my neck and I dropped. Then he kicked me
repeatedly in the ribs in a violent frenzy followed by a pounding with the
stick. All the while he was shouting obscenities towards me. I rolled into
a fetal position and covered my head with my arms and prayed he let me
live.

Suddenly, it stopped. I'd pulled into myself and stopped listening to his
obscenities. It had become a dull roar. But the unexpected silence was
deafening. I opened my eyes and cautiously peeked. I saw Sheriff Withers
running to his truck and then the sound of gravel under his tires was the
next thing I heard.  When I realized he was gone, I felt the pain. It hurt
to breath, it hurt to move and the worst was the excruciating pain in my
smashed testicles. All I could do was moan.

The next thing I became aware of was a tall man kneeling beside me. When I
managed to focus, I mumbled an answer to his repeated question, "I don't
know. I hurt everywhere." Then he spoke to another man.

"Put the fucking camera down and call 911!" The other man set the large
thing he was holding down and I pulled on the tall man's sleeve.

"No. Take me home. Please. Just take me home," I pled.

The man looked hesitant then asked, "Can you stand up?" Gripping onto him I
pulled myself into a sitting position with a loud groan. I closed my eyes
until the dizziness faded. Slowly, I put one foot under me and then a
second and stood, hunched over. The man reached around to support me by my
midsection and I screamed in pain.

"No, don't touch me. Just let me hang on to you," I cried out.

"Sure, sure. Take it slow and easy," he suggested. I did. Step by painful
step, I made it to the van. He opened the back doors and shoved some
equipment boxes aside so that I could just slip in and lay on the floor of
the van.

The ride was miserable. Every bump sent shockwaves of pain through my
torso. When they pulled up in front of my house, Mom came out to see what
was going on. When she saw me, she gasped and started to cry. "Mom, I'm
okay. Calm down," I assured her. "I just need to lie down." The news crew
helped me into the house and I lay down on the couch, groaning. Mom thanked
them and thanked them and fussed over me.

The news man, true to form, started to ask me questions. "Did you know your
assailant?"

I pondered that for several minutes. Finally, I looked him in the eye and
said, "No. He was a large person. That's all I know."

"Did he speak to you? What did he say?" the news man asked.

"He yelled at me. He screamed obscenities at me and called me a faggot," I
said.

"Did you recognize his voice?"

"No."

"What about the truck he was in. Did you recognize that?" the man asked.

"No. I didn't."

"The reason I came out here in the first place was to ask you about the
kids on the bus. Can you tell me anything about that?" he asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I murmured.

"There's new information out there about two young boys on a bus trip you
were on and something happening in a road stop bathroom," he said. "Can you
tell me more about what that's about?"

"No. I'm done for now. Thanks for helping, but can you leave now, please?"
I asked. I couldn't think what the hell he was talking about. My balls were
aching bad and I needed to see what they looked like.  I didn't want anyone
else around for that, especially not a news anchor and his cameraman.

"Sure. If you think of anything or if you want us to help find out who did
it, just call." He pressed a card in my Mom's hand and he and his cameraman
left.

"Are you certain that you're all right? I think we should take you to the
emergency room to have you checked out," Mom asked.

"He kicked me between my legs. I need to look down there. Where's Dad?" I
asked.

"He's across town. Should I call him?"

"No. Just get Billy."

Mom hurried upstairs and called for Billy in a somewhat frantic
voice. Billy rushed down and I had to explain what happened. I could see
that Billy wasn't buying it that I didn't know who it was who roughed me
up. "Dude, I need to check down there and see why it hurts so bad," I
finally said, cutting off his other questions.

Mom excused herself to the kitchen to make me some tea. Billy helped me
lift my hips and he slid my jogging pants down and then my tight, nylon
sport briefs. I groaned as Billy pulled those off. "Holy shit!"  Billy
exclaimed. "Dude, that's bad!"

I lifted my head and peered down at my swollen and purplish sac. Tears
welled in my eyes. I worried how much damage had been done. "Oh man. I was
afraid of that," I grumbled and let my head fall back.  Leaning up to look
at my balls was hurting my sore ribs and back. "Just put my running shorts
back on me. Leave the briefs off."

Billy did that for me and then he said, "I think you need to let Mom see
those, dude. You may need to go to a doctor."

"Okay," I relented. "Probably should."

"Mom, come check this out," Billy called.

Mom scurried in with a cup of tea that smelled of lemon. "See what?" she
asked.

"This," Billy replied. I sighed as Billy gently exposed my swollen genitals
to my mother.

Mom gasped, dropping the cup of tea, and bringing a hand to cover her
mouth. She sat beside me and carefully reached down to feel my swollen
sac. Her hand felt cool against the hot, swollen skin. She gently squeezed
and I cried out. "Sorry, sweetheart. We need to take you in and have a
doctor look at this. What kind of an animal did this? We need to get out of
here. We just have to get you away from this awful place."

Billy covered me back up and the two of them made preparations to haul me
in to emergency. Dad was called and he said he would meet us there. I lay
in the back seat of the crew cab of our old truck and wished at every turn
and every bump that we'd just get there. Sitting in the emergency room
waiting for my turn to get examined was horrible. There was nowhere to lie
down and sitting in those red vinyl chairs with the blond wood arms hurt
immensely. Breathing hurt, laughing killed me. Billy tried to be funny a
couple of times until he realized how it hurt me. Finally, they took me
back to an exam room.

When I fully undressed, my mom gasped again. "Who did this to you?" the
doctor asked.

"I don't know," I answered. "Some big guy. He hit me from behind and I
rolled up on the ground and covered my head."

"This has to be reported to the police," he said.

"I don't want to. I've had enough trouble. I just want to let it go," I
answered.

"I'm afraid I can't just let it go. I'm obligated to report crimes," he
said. I wasn't surprised but I was troubled. I just didn't want to go
through any more legal crap. I just wanted to have my trial, get done with
it and move on, and definitely move away. The doctor gave the nurse orders
to call the police and then turned his attention to me. Everywhere he
prodded hurt.

"Does that hurt?" he asked as he pressed against my shoulder.

"Yes," I answered.

Next the ribs. "Yes." Lower down. "Yes." The welts on my arms from the
night stick. "Oh, Yes."

He gently took my swollen sac in his hand and before he could even ask me I
said, "YES! YES! YES!" He broke into laughter as did my mother and
father. I started to laugh as well, but as soon as I did, I grabbed my ribs
and groaned, "Ohhhh, ouch."

The emergency room doctor sent a nurse off and she quickly returned with a
syringe and large needle.  He shoved it into my scrotum and I nearly passed
out. Slowly, he extracted four syringes of blood from my sac and much of
the swelling along with some of the pain was relieved. Next I was sent for
X-rays.  The hard X-ray table slab was painful to lie on and they wanted me
to twist this way and that. All of which sent shockwaves of fresh pain
through my body.

From there I was ushered into a room and had to lie on a table with
footrests, that the technician called stirrups. The technician was a middle
aged woman and I felt a little embarrassed. She sensed it and tried to put
me at ease.  "I understand this can be sensitive for a young man, but I
assure you, I'll be as sensitive as I can be. She kept me covered up until
she was ready to do the ultrasound. Then she pulled the blanket and gown
away and squirted a glob of cold gel on my sac. She let me rub it
around. She added a glob to the wand, and placed it on my balls. She
slowly, but firmly, slid the wand over my sac and adjusted knobs on the
computer screen as she did so. She moved all around my balls, pulling the
skin taut and with a fair amount of pressure. I winced and groaned while
she apologetically explained that in order to get the correct readings, a
certain amount of pressure was necessary. She also had to lift them now and
then to get an image from underneath. She wore gloves, of course. When she
was done, she lifted my feet out of the stirrups for me and replaced the
blanket with a final apology.

I was returned to a regular room after the X-rays. The doctor was strongly
considering having me spend the night and they had rooms open. I had blood
tests and after about an hour, the doctor came in. I was glad because I was
tired of my dad's questions over the incident, trying to get at who had
done it. Like Billy, I could tell Dad didn't really believe that I had no
idea who my assailant was.

The doctor informed us that nothing was broken but seven ribs were
cracked. My testicles, he felt would fully recover but I was to stay in bed
for a week and have them checked weekly by my regular doctor. He wrapped my
ribs with an elastic bandage to hold them in place but indicated that there
wasn't anything to do about them but give them time to heal.

"I can't stay in bed a whole week," I objected. "I have to go to Billings
on Tuesday to meet with my attorney."

"You can do what you want, but right now, I don't see any sign of
rupture. You do have some swelling of the epididymis. There is a lot of
trauma down there and things could worsen if you don't take care of
yourself. When you do start to recover and move around, wear a jockstrap to
support yourself as much as possible. This isn't a minor matter. You need
to take it serious."

"Yes sir. I understand. But I really need to go if there is any way to do
it," I answered. I just couldn't miss seeing Steve. I just couldn't bear
it. I'd rather take another beating than miss seeing him. It was all I'd
been thinking about since I'd learned it was possible.

"Then wear a jockstrap when you travel and do as little walking as
possible. And be certain you don't incur any trauma to that region. I'm
going to prescribe you some pain medication, anti-inflammatory pills and an
anti-biotic. I'd really like you to spend the night just to be sure nothing
crops up overnight, but it's up to you."

"He'll stay!" my mom responded for me. I could hear in her voice that it
was not negotiable. I didn't answer. Actually, being able to just lie in
the adjustable bed and not having to drive home sounded pretty good to me.

Shortly after the doctor left my room, a nurse came in and said the Sheriff
was here to take a statement from me. I groaned and steeled
myself. "Okay. Might as well get this over with," I told her.

"He asked to speak with you alone, so I need to ask your parents to step
out."

"We'll go on home now that we know you're going to be okay. I'm so relieved
that nothing serious is wrong. It's good those kind news men came by. Who
knows what that brute might have done to you if they hadn't."

"Yeah, probably true. Thanks, Mom. I love you," I said.

"We love you too, Shane. Behave in here," she said with a kiss to my
forehead. Dad took my hand and gave me a thumbs up, telling me to get
better. A few minutes after they had left, in walked Sheriff Withers.

"What the hell?" I asked in disbelief.

"I don't like it either, but I'm on duty and I couldn't very well say I
wasn't going to take the call," he stated plainly. "So have you told anyone
that it was me who did this to you?"

"No. I haven't. I told them that I didn't know who did it. I just said it
was a large man and that you screamed obscenities and gay slurs at me while
you beat me. My dad and Billy don't believe me and I'm pretty sure the
doctor didn't either."

"You're smarter than I gave you credit for. Keep up with that story if you
know what's good for you," he threatened.

"I didn't do it because I was afraid of you. I did it for Colt. I didn't
want him to have to suffer for his father's stupidity. If I identified you,
you would lose your job and I couldn't trust what you might do to Colt. I
kept quiet about you for that reason and that reason only," I retorted. I
glared at him.

"Sure. You're just a saint, aren't you?" he spat.

"You don't need to ask me any questions to fill out your report, since you
were present when the crime was committed, so why don't you get the hell
out of my room so I can get some badly needed sleep."

"There wasn't any crime. There was only a warning against the crime you had
in mind," he said without remorse.

"You don't feel the least bit sorry for what you did to me, do you?"

"Of course not. I did what was best for my son and I'd do it again. I might
let him testify against you.  Show a pattern of your predatory behavior."

"That would mean you'd have to own up to being my assailant," I said.

"Not necessarily. There's no evidence that I was the one who beat your
sorry ass," he smugly replied.  "I'm just not sure I want to put Colt
through it. Court gets ugly sometimes."

I reached over and pressed the call button for the nurse. "We're done. I
don't plan on telling on you because of Colt. Don't give me a reason to
change my mind. And also, the vehicle that scared you off was a cable news
crew. I don't know if they got any footage of you leaving or not. They had
the camera out." I watched with great pleasure as his expression turned
fearful.

"You think that's possible?" he asked. "What channel was it?"

"I didn't pay any attention. I was a little more concerned with
breathing. If I were you, I'd try to find out, though," I baited him. I
didn't want him to waltz out there thinking he'd pulled off his little one
man vigilante raid on me risk free. "Actually, Sheriff, I do remember the
station, it was KGFY."

"KGFY? I've never heard of it," he said.

"Sure you have. It stands for K Go F Yourself!"

The night nurse walked in and cleared my call button. The timing was good
because the Sheriff looked like he wanted to take another swing at
me. There must have been a shift change while the Sheriff was in my
room. "Need something?" he asked kindly. He was strikingly handsome and
reminded me of Steve in a way. His nice hair, strong jaw, smooth, steady
gait and especially his kind smile all resembled my lover, Steve.

"Yes, I do. The Sheriff is done and leaving now and I'd like some more pain
medicine so I can try to get some sleep."

"Of course." Turning to the Sheriff, he said, "It's just awful what's
happened here. I hope you find the coward who did this. Prejudice is such a
stupid, moronic thing. Don't you agree?"

"Sometimes," Sheriff Withers began, "Prejudice is based on solid
reasoning."

The young nurse just scowled at him with complete disdain and left the
room.

Sheriff Withers followed him out. "Have a nice day, Sheriff," I called out
as he left. He didn't acknowledge me. I closed my eyes and thought about
Colt. I prayed that his asshole father wouldn't take things out on him. I
feared that life would not be pleasant at their home. I also hoped it
wouldn't come out that Colt's mom concealed the incident with Colt's
friend, Scott. Then I turned my thoughts toward Steve. The handsome nurse
returned with a whole collection of things.

He pulled the curtain around my bed for privacy and set up an IV bag. "I'm
Kyle, and I'll be your nurse tonight," he offered.

"Hi. I'm Shane." He extended a hand and we shook. I was pleased to have a
male nurse.

He poked me near the crook of my elbow and set up a line for the IV. He was
incredibly gentle about it and found the vein right off. "This is just a
saline solution to keep you hydrated and to get some urine flow going. We
want to flush out any blood you might have in your kidneys and
urethra. Also, it gives us a good method of delivery for your pain meds,
anti-biotic and anti-inflammatories. He checked my chart.  "No allergies to
any medications according to this. Is that correct?"

"None that I know of," I confirmed.

"Good. Here is a urinal bottle to pee in. We want to measure your output
and inspect your urine color, so please use it instead of the bathroom. If
you need to have a bowel movement, call me and let me help you to the
bathroom," he instructed.

"All right. You're very good at all of this," I complimented. "And you seem
very kind. Thanks."

He smiled slowly and sincerely, reminding me of Steve. Then he responded,
"I appreciate that. I try. I'm pretty new, to be honest. This is my first
job out of school. Hope you don't mind breaking me in. I have had some
experience with your kind of injury, though."

"Really? You've had other guys with their ribs broke and balls busted?" I
asked.

"You have cracked ribs, not broken ones, thankfully," he corrected. "But as
for the balls, I had a friend when I was in high school and my mother burst
into my room one night and poor William was just leaving and he was just
tall enough that the door handle smashed one of his testicles against his
leg.  Poor guy ended up having to lose it."

When he saw the sudden panic on my face, he quickly added, "But that won't
happen to yours, Shane.  Yours haven't ruptured. Just take care of them." I
smiled in relief.

"I hope not. That's not something I'd like to lose. I'm rather fond of
them," I joked.

"As a fellow owner, I get it. I do. It was hard on William when he lost
his. They ended up putting in an artificial one for him, so he at least
appeared normal and that made him feel much better."

"That's a good thing. I didn't know they could do that," I said. He
injected a syringe of pain killer, then one of an anti-biotic as well as an
anti-inflammatory into the IV line.

"You should get some relief from that pretty soon," Nurse Kyle assured me.

"I have to check on my only other patient and I'll be right back. Looks
like I've got an easy night ahead of me," he said with a smile.

"Sounds good."

"I'm going to leave you this little bottle. The Urologist would like to get
a semen sample from you in it for the lab. You can take care of it while
I'm out," he offered. "When I come back, I'll check your injuries and help
you get comfortable for the night. Well, as comfortable as you're going to
be able to get, at least."

"Which probably isn't very comfortable at all," I suggested.

"You're right about that, I'm afraid." He left the curtain drawn for
privacy.

I laid back and squirmed a bit to try and get comfortable. I messed with
the adjustments on the bed until I was more sitting up than lying down and
that seemed to be as comfortable as I was going to get. I reached over to
the table and took the cup. That sent waves of pain through my chest. I
just lay back and dropped my hands to my side. Every little thing was a
major undertaking. My muscles in my back, neck and arms were aching and
screaming from the bruises and welts I'd received. My legs ached from
having run so far before I was beaten and overall, I was just exhausted.

I felt Kyle's warm hand on my arm and my eyes fluttered awake. "Oh, hey. I
guess I dozed," I told him.

"That's what you need, is sleep," he said. "But right now, Cynthia is here
from the lab to draw some blood. Did you take care of the other lab
specimen?"

I felt my face blush pink. "Uh, no. Sorry. I started to but ..."

"Okay. We can get that down to them later. I'll leave Cynthia to her
work. I'll be back in a bit," Kyle said understandingly.

Cynthia was not as good at finding my slippery veins as Kyle had been. She
poked me a half dozen times before she found one and drew her vials of my
dark red blood. I couldn't help but think that if she'd cut her bright
purple bangs, she could see what she was doing better. She removed the
rubber tourniquet and let my life force flow. Three vials later, she was
off.

Kyle returned and smiled. He stood beside my bed and said, "I've followed
your case on the TV. It must be awful what you're going through. Do you
mind if I ask you a little about it?"

"No. That's fine," I offered.

"If you're not comfortable talking about it, or if I'm bothering you,
please let me know," he clarified.

"It's fine, really. I'd like to talk a bit. I'm awake again now."

"Good. I was also wondering if while we talk, if you'd like a sponge
bath. I read in your chart that you had been out running when that gay
bashing asshole attacked you. Pardon my language, but, eww, I hate those
fools."

I chuckled a bit at his reaction but it hurt to do so. "A sponge bath would
be wonderful, if you're willing.  I feel incredibly sticky and gross."

"I'll be right back then," Kyle said and whisked away.

He was back in a flash with a small pan of warm water, several wash cloths,
some liquid soap and a toothbrush. He'd shut my door and pulled the
curtain. He placed an absorbent pad underneath me and peeled off the covers
as well as my gown. I was naked, but he didn't make me feel the least bit
uncomfortable about it. He gently lifted my swollen sac and examined it
briefly, nodding approval, presumably as an indication that it wasn't as
bad as he thought it might be. He took my elastic bandage off my rib cage
and set it aside. Then, he moistened a towel and began washing my feet. He
was so gentle and tender about it. It felt wonderful and took my mind off
the painful ribs.

"What would you like to know?" I asked.

"The reports say you didn't know anything about the sex ring that the Judge
was running. You just happened to be roommates at college with that Steve
guy who had grown up in the orphanage place and had gotten swept up into
the sex ring activities. Is that right?"

"Pretty much. Yeah. I had no idea what kind of hell he'd lived through
there. He didn't ever talk about his past. I first learned he was an orphan
when he came home with me at Christmastime."

"So the part I don't get is, how come you're charged with sex crimes
against the boys if you were never part of that?"

"That's a long story," I said.

He rinsed the cloth and started on my other foot, "I got all night," he
said with a smile.

"Don't make me laugh," I begged, holding my left side. He apologized. I
started to recount the experience at the ranch and how Steve revealed about
growing up in the boys home. I shared that we started having a gay
relationship and then told him the whole Yellowstone story. He kept
pressing a hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter when I got to the part
about being naked in the hallway. He sympathized with me over the
frustration I felt over Steve's secretive nature. Kyle actually cried with
me as I talked of Calvin's death and he took my hand and held it as I
shared my feelings of guilt over it. His eyes were full of compassion.

"What an ordeal," Kyle lamented with me as I finished my tale. "And now
this. You've been through so much. I'm pretty good at reading people,
Shane, and I can tell that what you've shared with me is true. I believe
you and I pray that justice prevails for you."

"Thanks. I have a good attorney and he's doing all he can. There's just
such a witch hunt mentality out there about this kind of thing and I get
it, protecting the children is important, but it scares me that I might be
a victim of the hysteria," I said.

"I'm sure. How scary it must be for you. I'm truly sorry," he shared. He
finished washing my back and it felt good to lay back against the bed
feeling clean. Only my groin was left. "Do you want me to do down here, or
would you rather try yourself?" he asked.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather you did it," I answered honestly. I felt no
embarrassment because he was so kind and reassuring. He spread my legs a
bit and slid a damp cloth up underneath me and cleaned down through my
crack. I shivered as he brushed across my sphincter. I wished it was Steve
there with me. I so wanted to be stroked and caressed by Steve in the
manner Kyle had just done for me. I missed his touch so much. Tears formed
and trickled down my cheeks.

"Am I hurting you?" Kyle asked pulling away from the tender dabbing he'd
been doing along the folds of my swollen sac.

"No. No, it feels good. I was just ..." I paused. "I was just thinking
about my boyfriend, Steve, and missing him. That's all." I brushed a tear
from my cheek. The attention to my balls and the whole bathing experience
is having an effect on me." Particularly, thinking about Steve bathing and
caressing me without the distraction of telling my story, had suddenly
caused the normal human male reaction in my penis. It boned up to full
mast.

"Sorry," I offered. "It has a mind of its own sometimes, you know?"

He smiled knowingly and said, "I do know, as a matter of fact. And, no
worries. In fact, that should help you with the specimen you still owe me."

I smiled back. "I guess it will at that."

He finished with one last, gentle caress of my tender balls and gathered up
the towels, placing them in the tub of water. Then he handed me the small
clear bottle. I took the lid off and held it with my left hand down near
the tip of my dick and gripped my shaft with my right hand. I started to
slowly stroke it as Kyle gathered the last of his items. I let go of my
dick and fell back into my bed. "I don't think I can do this. It hurts," I
whined.

He paused, seeming unsure of what he was about to say, then offered, "Would
you like me to help?"

"Would you?" I asked. He nodded and set the tub and folded up pad on the
floor. He pulled a bottle of lotion from his pocket and filled his palm. He
took my penis in hand, which had softened already, and slowly caressed
it. It felt nice to have it touched in a tender manner by someone else. I
wished he didn't have gloves on, but even with the gloves, his technique
was impressive. Slowly, he slid my re-engorged dick through his lubricated
palm, allowing his thumb to trace across my frenulum just right. He added a
slight twist at the very end of each stroke to make sure his thumb flicked
across the sensitive fold of skin.

I made satisfied, soft moans as he tenderly stimulated me toward the
required orgasm. He wasn't clinical or perfunctory in his approach at
all. He was cautious and gentle. It was almost sensual. I say almost, but
in fact, that's exactly what it was. It was sensual. He smiled
understandingly and so very kindly as we made eye contact. "Let me show you
what my partner, Scotty, likes me to do for him," Nurse Kyle
whispered. Then, he added lotion and turned his palm the opposite way such
that the underside of my glans rubbed across his wrist on the downward
strokes.

"Scotty?" I asked. "You're gay?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yes. We've been together since high school. We were
on the wrestling team together, and we had our own little ordeal with some
very evil men," he offered. "I could completely relate to your traumatic
experience at the river."

"I should have known," I said.

"Why should you have known?" he asked. "Am I so obvious?"

"No. I didn't mean that. I just ... I guess I don't know why I said that."

He smiled again and asked, "This should be working soon. Are you close?"

"Not quite. To be honest, it would help if my boyfriend, Steve, were here
to fill me up. I crave that. Do you have something I could use up there?" I
asked.

"I see," he said with a knowing smile. He stopped and spread lotion on the
fingers of his left hand and found his way to my hole. "Would you like me
to?" Kyle asked.

"Yes, Please. It will help me cum," I shared.

"Okay. Tell me if it hurts." Cautiously, he slid a finger up inside. Not
far, because I could only give him limited access, but enough. Then he put
two up inside me. I knew he wouldn't reach the magic spot, given the
limited access, but it was enough to heighten the titillation for me.

Kyle resumed stroking my reddened dick while cautiously finger fucking
me. "Oh man, it feels so good.  It's been so long." I gulped and panted as
he deftly coaxed the semen from my aching balls. They pulled up tight and
when they did, I groaned in pain.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked and stopped what he'd been doing.

"No. Just my balls pulling up in my sac was painful. Don't stop," I
desperately begged.

He pressed his fingers back up within me again and I pulled my legs
carefully up and spread them to give him better access to my ass and closed
my eyes. "Oh, Steve," I whispered, "Fill me up. Take me all the way, my
love. Take me all the way. The fingers pressed deeper until the tips
reached my happy place and then fondled me to a spectacular eruption. Each
orgasmic wave sent a unique mixture of pleasure and pain shuddering through
my upper torso. Nurse Kyle released my pulsating penis and grabbed the
bottle to collect the next three blasts of my ejaculate. When I was done
cumming, and was just lying there panting, Kyle slowly slipped his fingers
out of me. He'd understood how important it was for me to be continuously
stimulated there to enhance the experience. Of course, he knew. He was one
of us. I wondered then, allowing a slightly wicked smile to cross my pursed
lips, if Kyle's partner was a bottom as well.

"Thanks," I mumbled appreciatively. "I needed that. More than you could
know."

"My pleasure," he replied. "But, Shane?"

"Yes," I answered.

"It's not likely that anyone will ever ask, but if it should come up,
there's no need to provide any details on how this lab sample was
collected." He hefted the small bottle up and wiggled it. I could see that
it was abnormally pink in color. I was frightened by that and he sensed
it. Rotating it slowly, he commented, "There's only a little blood mixed
in. That's a good sign." I relaxed and smiled again. Then I closed my eyes
and surrendered to my tired, aching body. I dreamt of Steve with his
gorgeous hair, solid jawline, smooth gait and tender touch.

******####******

Hopefully, you are still with me on this journey. I appreciate my editors,
Flip and Paul, for helping with this story and making it so much better for
you. I appreciate your comments and pray all is well with you. Hans
h.schreiber@hushmail.com